


Body Electric

by mollykaths



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Lance, Dom/sub Undertones, Keith tries to top from the bottom but ends up bottoming from the top, LOST spoilers, M/M, Praise Kink, Riding, Spoilers, both characters are 18+, honestly there isn't much to this, just being honest lol, klance, shamless and indulgent smut, weird thing to tag in a klance fic but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollykaths/pseuds/mollykaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alright,” Lance announces, determined, like he’s about to take a dive into frozen waters. “I’m gonna do it now. I’m going to ride you. This is it. The time is now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body Electric

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm a hack who just randomly chooses song titles off her itunes playlist to come up with fic titles.
> 
> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> enjoy this ubeta'd fic lol

They’ve been screwing for a few weeks now and Keith was Lance’s first. So when Keith had whispered, “I want you to ride me,” Lance’s face clouded with some skepticism. 

 

“Why?”

 

“Why? Because it’s hot. Do you want me to write a thesis for you?”

 

“I don’t know anything about that. It sounds kind of….strenuous.”

 

“You deepthroating me isn’t ‘strenuous’?”

 

 

Lance had shrugged because Keith did have a point. So here they are now: naked. Lance  is sitting in Keith’s lap, worked open and prepared from Keith's fingers. Lance already looks fuck-out from the teasing and begging supplied by said fingers. As per usual, their tryst had begun with an argument that lead to a childish, physical skirmish. Which had lead to a sloppy makeout, which had lead to this.

 

 

“Alright,” Lance announces, determined, like he’s about to take a dive into frozen waters. “I’m gonna do it now. I’m going to ride you. This is it. The time is now.”

 

Keith stretches his arms behind his head, idly, waiting out this lengthy exposition.

 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Keith sighs. “Sometime within this calendar year would be nice.”

 

 

“Better watch out, amigo, ‘cause I’m comin’ at ya,” Lance warns. If Keith had the energy to pull him down, take the reigns, and kiss him fiercely, he would. But the initial appeal is that less effort is required on Keith’s end. For an instant, it was a steady, difficult slide. Lance winces, his whole body wobbling, before he fidgets a little, eases up and then… _oh_. Keith hears Lance moan, though just barely, over the sounds of his own satisfied mewls.

 

“You’re shaking,” Keith comments, the air sucked from his lungs. Lance is so tight around him, the heat of him magnificent, and he was starting to move again.  Tentatively Lance begins lifting up.

 

“You’re  _big_ ,” Lance hisses.

 

“You’re nervous.”

 

“Pft, I’m not nervous. I’m practically a savant at sex now. All it takes is a few poundings.”

 

“Doesn’t count if those poundings lasted under 30 seconds.”

 

 

Lance glares at him, offended, and to make a point, he raises as slowly as he can before plunging back down. The bastard grins at him from above, triumphantly,watching Keith’s eyelids flutter in defeat. “Yeah,” Keith groans, hands shifting to flex uselessly at Lance’s stomach. “Lean back a little. Trust me, it’ll feel good.”

 

On a shaky breath, Lance moves again and leans back. From this angle, Keith should have Lance melting and pliant.

 

“ _Dios mío_ ,” Lance whimpers, his torso curling into a perfect and beautiful arch. “You weren’t kidding.”

 

The friction leaves Keith panting and helpless. Everything suddenly snaps together as Lance learns how to work his hips in tandem.  Keith desperately bucks into each blow, the movements still agonizingly sluggish, not as reckless as Keith prefers.  He just lies there, lets the pleasure build up at a snail’s pace, trying hard not to let himself come too undone. Not that it would matter: he’s already grabbing at the sheets as the strain wrapped around his cock becomes more and more unbearable. Lance is  mumbling praises that slip back and forth between English and Spanish.

 

 

“You look like a wreck, dude,” Lance exhales, thighs trembling. He’s significantly sweatier than Keith from expending more effort so yeah, its not like he’s one to talk but whatever.

 

 

“How are you still talking? God, shut up.”

 

“I will if you touch me,” Lance bargains.

 

“I can’t. You’ll come, like, right away.”

 

 

Lance doesn’t argue because its true (and he  _knows_  that) but Lance, being Lance, chooses to make a show out of it anyhow, scowling. His cadence grows a lot less forgiving and  _fuckfuck_  Keith's back arches off the mattress, its  _so good_ , so  _tight, so hot, how is it he’s the one topping but it feels like he’s the one getting fucked. It doesn’t make any sense—_

 

“ _Puta,_ ” Lance gasps, a wave of heat buzzing through him, eyes rolling back.

 

“I know what  _that_  means in Spanish, Lance, you jackass,” Keith growls, squirming as he stares Lance down.  He’s been in this position before so he  _knows_ how Lance must feel under his unrelenting gaze. Keith is looking at him like he wants to eat him alive because god, does he want to.

 

Pale fingers are gripping slender and narrow hips, leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake. Lance is tall, skinny, gangly, and awkward but in intimate moments like these, Keith sees a part of him that no one else has. No one else knows how it feels to roll their tongue over radiant, brown skin that’s softer than silk, to feel long legs wrapped around their waist, straddled against their thighs. Only Keith has studied the rhythm of Lance’s slender frame, as his belly goes taut when he finds the right angle that hits his prostate directly. Lance  _commits_  those angles to memory, driving into them over and over. The kid is so relentless, even during sex.

 

 

Big, brown doe eyes, pupils blown, pretty face scrunching up due to the intensity of it all.

 

 

“C’mere,” Keith demands through dry lips. “You look so gorgeous. Gotta kiss you.”

 

Lance obliges, bending down to meet Keith’s mouth in sloppy, wet kisses.

 

 “Not true, you always call me a skinny nerd.”

 

 

“You can be both. Now  _c’mon_ , c’mon, keep going,” Keith growls, almost regretting the power he’s handed over, rocking impatiently. Lance pins Keith's hips down with his hands, holding them in place.

 

“How am I doing?” Lance asks.

 

The noise that rips through Keith’s throat is wretched, nearly a sob and definitely laced with desperation. “Fine, just fine.”

 

 

“Just fine?” Lance repeats, unsatisfied.

 

 

“No,” Keith promises through grit teeth, not sure what to do with his idle hands. If he uses them to pull Lance down and encourage a quicker tempo, Lance would just pin them down again. Maybe over his head. Fuck, that’s kind of hot, actually.

 

“Better than ‘fine.’ Perfect. Amazing. You’re going to come if I tell you what a good boy you are, aren’t you?”

 

“You  _suck_ ,” Lance wails in a tiny and feeble voice. He’s abandoned his snark, Keith can tell, as well as his resolve. Unable to maintain his posture, Lance slumps over, bouncing up and down on every inch of Keith’s generous girth. The way Lance moans as Keith spreads him open isn't something he can feign at this point, not when there are errant tears in the corners of his eyes.

 

“ _Sí, sí, sí, sí,_ Keith—“

 

Lance collapses, strength lost in upper torso, burying his face into Keith’s chest. Neither can hold on for much longer. Nonetheless, pride swells up in Keith’s chest because he  _so_  called it, he knew Lance would give in.

 

 

“Look at you,” Keith continues, “You’re such a mess for me. Like you were made to ride my cock. You’re such a good boy, Lance.”

 

“For you,” Lance whines and Keith can hear the bed creak as Lance ruts fervently. “All for you, only for you, Keith, oh god.”

 

Lance makes a noise that can’t be anything other than a yelp when Keith reaches between them to pump his cock with his fist. Tilting and pushing back so that Keith can press against his prostate  without fail, Lance makes the most overwhelmed, wounded noise. Naturally, Lance is the first to go because he’s twenty, clumsy, and it’s his first time bouncing on a dick with all his might. Poor thing didn't stand a chance, not with Keith rubbing his backside, murmuring, " _good boy, good boy_ ," as he works Lance through his orgasm. That’s all it takes, really: listening to Lance spill out a series of expletives in Spanish, clamping hard around Keith’s erection. It all becomes too much. Keith lets out a howl and his body jerks. He just lets the sensation flood over him, lets his toes curl from the unyielding pleasure, and tosses his head back.

 

“Holy heckeroni,” Lance remarks, bathing Keith in exhausted sweat.

 

 

Their gazes meet, eyes locked for a prolonged moment while they’re still tangled together. At last, Lance’s expression transforms into something recognizable—an honest ‘I can’t believe how hard we just made each other come,’ look. Keith can’t help but return a similar grin.

 

 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, feeling a visceral thrill at how Lance’s release leaked and splattered all over his stomach. He should get up and throw the used condom away but Keith’s legs are made of jelly. They keep on staring as they gradually come back to themselves, their breaths shallow and rapid. Their eyes are still bright.

 

“Do you even remember what we were arguing about earlier?” Lance inquires, breaking the silence.

 

Distantly recalling that he ought to ease up his grip, Keith lets go enough for Lance to slip out. The sentiment shared when they part is an empty, one. Keith pulls the condom away, dumps it in the trashcan beside his bed, the rest of his body unmoving. He’ll worry about the mess on his stomach later.

 

 

“Yeah,” Keith says, “You kept talking about some dumb tv show I don’t care about and I told you to shut up.”

 

“LOST is not a dumb show,” Lance protests.

 

“From what you’ve shared with me, it sounds pretty convoluted.”

 

“Exactly, you’d love it. You’re a conspiracy theorist creepazoid.”

 

 

 “Not this again,” Keth grunts, nudging Lance’s side with his elbow. Not that there's any actual force behind it.

 

 

“The island was purgatory all along.”

 

“Shut up, Lance.”

 

 

Lance falls over so they lie side by side, smiling into it when Keith kisses him, languidly. It’s a slow, long, and deep kiss, with lots of tongue. He figures that will be more than enough to keep Lance quiet.

 

It does just that.

 

 

 


End file.
